CROCS, JELLYPOPS, & FLIP-FLOPS

AND HEELS, HEELS, HEELS, GALORE!!!

Shoes, shoes, & more shoes!!!  Woo hoo!!!  I have never been a sensible shoe kind of woman, but that must change and I am doing it kicking & screaming. Now that I’ve got some age on me and serious foot issues, my tall heels are going the way of the Giant Galliwasp & the Moa-Nalo bird.

Just a year ago, I was balancing (sometimes falling) on 5 inch stiletto heels. A wide heel is better for maneuvering. But with any heel, especially those higher than 3 inches, bones may still break if you tumble. I’ve been fortunate so far. But 5 inches are just TOO high and TOO painful, also downright dangerous!

I’d love to garrote the jerk responsible these! But he’s already dead! -- That would be King Louis XIV of France during the 1600’s.The man only stood 5’3! These were the first elevator shoes.

The towering heels caught on with his mistress, the notorious Madame de Pompadour. Louis’ paramour was quite the fashionista. Soon they became a trend among ladies of noble birth. However with the execution of well-heeled Marie Antoinette, they quickly fell out of fashion. Heels became a symbol of opulence and excess. No heel was allowed higher than 2 inches, what we call “kitten heels” today.

Tall heels were banned altogether in colonial Massachusetts! Women attired in these were considered promiscuous or even sorceresses! And you can’t blame the colonists for thinking this way, high heels are quite bewitching and intriguing, not to mention alluring.

Late in the 1800’s heels came back into fashion and have been popular in many different styles & lengths ever since; despite the fact you can’t beat a flat heel for comfort.

My favorite walking shoe has always been the one inch high Hush Puppy pump. They are perfect for a leisurely afternoon at the mall or even an entire day out. But Vero Beach has smooth pavements. These did not cut it in Ecuador where the streets are cobblestone and the sidewalks iffy. My feet suffered.

To my embarrassment, I was forced to wear rubber flip-flops on the plane ride home. This type of footwear is fine when touring or relaxing. But yikes, what kind of tacky low-life would actually wear them on an airplane! I could just picture myself shuffling my feet, trying to hide them, hoping no one would notice.

Ick! Ick! Ick! Hot cat pee and OMG!!! I couldn’t believe what I saw at the airport. Nearly half the people were sporting flip-flops! I was DISGUSTED!!! Had these slobs no pride in their appearance?!? Bring on the apocalypse! The human race deserves to end! 

Fast forward a few months. For my trip to Thailand I sought out flat or sloped heels with ridged soles. The popular athletic shoes in stores had me singing the ugly-shoes-blues. Did I say ugly, they are hideous!!! I would never defile my feet with those.

Then I discovered Croc pumps! These had plenty of toe room and were actually pretty. They looked nothing like the Crocs I’d seen advertised! And they were the most comfortable shoes I’d ever worn!

Oh, but then I found Jellypops! My feet felt as if they were being embraced by loving cherubs.

My feet were ready for Thailand, plus all 7 flights, -- or so I thought! My pretty navy Crocs started to pinch on the plane. During the long 2 flights to Bangkok my feet had swollen. The following day, my Jellypops were so tight they were cutting into my flesh on the city tour. Even the fancy wedged sandals I brought pinched & cut my feet as well. The next day I bought a comfortable pair of wide leather thongs at a street market. I wore these the rest of the trip.

On my excursions abroad during the 1970’s, I wore mostly boots with chunky 2 inch heels. Despite all the walking, I experienced no discomfort whatsoever.  

Like many women, (& more than a few times) I’ve been seduced by cheap shoes because they were cute. (Some fell apart the third time I wore them.) I knew better, too! Poorly made shoes are easy to spot. Soles and ornamental items are glued on rather than stitched. -- And I’ve heard that a designer brand doesn’t guarantee you won’t get stuck with shoddy workmanship, either.

At home, shoes are always removed before entering. Bare feet rule inside my house! But outside, I like to dress sharp right down to my feet... But, (sigh) I’m getting accustomed to navigating the world in sensible shoes, now.

Sadly, there comes a point in time when one needs to make concessions due to age and health. But hey, I sure have my memories!

RECALLING JAYNE FROM LONG AGO

Jayne was what my father referred to as, “A character!” She would always knock twice on our door, before opening it. Then, she’d stick her head inside and yodel “Yoooouh-hoooo!” Back in the 1950’s nearly everyone’s doors were left unlocked. A locked one meant no one was home.

Well Jayne was NOT your typical 50’s housewife! During WWII she served as a nurse. She was not young even then. After the war and late in life, she became a private nurse and married a patient. His name was Walt. He was a tall, trim, elegant man who always wore a vest & jacket even during hot Florida summers.

Initially, I thought Walt didn’t know how to drive because Jayne was always the one behind the wheel. “Walt just prefers I do it,” she said with affection. Clearly, she was the one in charge. Mostly he was a reclusive homebody, she was a loquacious gadabout.

Before moving to Florida, they adopted an orphan baby from an Eastern European country. This was my friend, Sharla! She was 4 years older than me.

Sharla was the only one of my friends who had parents older than mine. Walt died of frail health when I was 7 and Sharla 11. This was the first real death in both our lives.

Jayne adored and overindulged Sharla spoiling her rotten. My parents did not like Sharla. However, I did, so they tolerated her. Plus Jayne was a good neighbor from several miles down the highway. And she tolerated me!

I was considered somewhat of a fresh kid by that family! Always, I called Jayne by her first name because my parents did. Even Sharla admonished me for addressing an adult in that fashion. But since I was never corrected by my parents I assumed it was OK and ignored her.

Plus I had a habit of using inappropriate and offensive phrases that made them gasp. – I was just quoting my parents! When I told my folks this, my parents just laughed.

I know Jayne didn’t think much of Mom & Dad’s parenting skills. Among other things, she thought it terrible they allowed me to drink coffee as a pre-schooler. Plus they never forced me to take naps. Of course I was so hopped-up on Caffeine I would have been unable to sleep anyway.

Due to anxiety attacks, my mother didn’t drive and depended on Jayne quite a bit. But they never socialized together one-on-one outside our home as friends usually do.

Whenever I went into town or attended any event with my family, we always seemed to run into Jayne. “Wow that Jayne sure gets around!” I exclaimed to my father.

“She should stay home and clean her house.” Dad sniffed. “Her house is dirty.”

Well, her house was my second home and honestly I don’t recall seeing any dirt, or dust even. I remember her furniture was old and not as nice as ours. But it was a place where you could put your bare feet on the couch while eating an ice-cream cone. In other words, a comfortable happy place!

In retrospect, this woman was out there living her life! She was no barfly or adulteress, Jayne was a decent person who wasn’t hurting herself or anyone else.

Also she was declared a busy-body by my grandfather. “She enjoys sticking her nose in other people’s business where it doesn’t belong!” he’d say. But Jayne was a people-person! And she was the first to lend a helping hand to anyone who needed it. She was someone you could count on in an emergency or even when things went sour.

My family’s first Christmas in our new home on the St. Lucie River was quite memorable. I vowed NOT to eat the ham & sweet potato dinner my parents were planning. (I don’t eat mammals & sweet potatoes make me gag!) Jayne cooked a special holiday meal for me and delivered it on Christmas Day!

The following week, the new year would mark the dawn of a new decade, 1960! A multitude of changes were headed our way, few of them good.

In 1961 a man came to our school conducting Tuberculosis tests. He examined our arms. All the kids in front of me were sent back to their seats immediately, but not me. I was the first of 3 students who was singled out. The man told us not to worry and then asked for our parent’s phone numbers. -- We had turned up positive!

Everyone in my family was required to see a doctor. As it turned out, we had merely been exposed. Our friend Jayne was the one with Tuberculosis. Of course it didn’t slow her down! She received treatment. Last I heard, she enjoyed a long and active life.

But sadly, after we moved into our new home, Jayne’s visits were far and few between. Sharla entered Junior High, while I was still in Elementary. Our friendship ended abruptly at the start of the new school year.

Life soon took on an entirely different reality in the new house! Jayne was too authentic to fit in with the hooch-hounds in the phony cocktail crowd my parents had joined. Now we had an image to maintain! For me, it was like trying to breathe under plastic while balancing on broken glass. My idyllic childhood ended quickly.

Looking back, I remember Jayne with tremendous fondness. We were fortunate she had been a part of our lives!

THE GREATEST HORROR/SYFI MOVIE IDEA EVER!!!

Weekends are for movies in my house and I look forward to these all week long! On my recent trip to Thailand, I came up with an idea for a great one! -- This is my intellectual property but I’m willing to sell it to Hollywood.

Below is the premise:

Hidden deep in the mountains near Chiang Rai and close to the Golden Triangle where Thailand, Myanmar, & Laos all meet and the Mekong & Ruak River come together, there dwells an obscure hill tribe of mysterious origins. The locals avoid them.

They are called the Parooba. They are lighter complexioned, but have higher cheekbones and their eyes slant more deeply than the natives. The Paroobans are clannish and secretive. However, they need to support themselves, so they operate Fish Massage parlors and sell street food throughout Northern Thailand. (Can you see where I’m going with this?) Their customers are solely tourists.

Now we come to the characters, as usual they’re a group of obnoxious 20-somethings. (This way the audience likes it when they get what’s coming!) They’re enjoying vacation before returning to the states. All are students at well known university studying to become lawyers.

The opening scene:  Passed out on the steps of a temple, they gradually come out of a drunken stupor. A strange, grinning man stands before them. He hands out coupons for a free fish massage while giving them directions. They notice long scars on each hand right below his pinky fingers. The fish deal is free, so they decide to go for it.

An exotically beautiful lady greets them. She politely demands they place their phones in a basket before they are allowed inside. Offensive to their deities, she insists. After a swearfest, they comply! They are welcomed inside and served tea & sweetbreads as a courtesy.

Due to their hangovers, they really don’t want this, but are told it’s rude to refuse. One of students notices the lady has the exact scars on her hands as the man who gave them the coupons. But only after she has learned they came to Thailand on a lark after getting bored in Shanghai. Everyone back home believes they are still at the Shanghai hotel.

The lady smiles, she tells them it’s time to enjoy their delightful fish massage. All of the students ask to use the bathroom first. Every one of them vomits up the tea & sweetbreads!

In the massage room, they seat themselves on the bench over the fish tank. The fish are released! However, instead of using Kangal fish as the Thais do, the Paroobans use Piranhas! Because the students barfed up the refreshments meant to render them immobile, they thrash about violently and try to escape while their feet & legs are being eaten. However the Paroobans have dealt with hung-over students before and are ready with baseball bats!

The following day, the Paroobans have fresh meat! It’s cooked, seasoned, & sold in the street markets. Some of it is even stir-fried with crickets. The tourists love it!

Eventually, the authorities start to catch on due to the number of disappearances traced to that area. An investigation is underway. Thru DNA testing, it’s discovered that the Paroobans are an ancient race reaching back to antediluvian times. Their ancestors were alien-human hybrids planted here to conquer and populate the earth. They failed, defeated by the Lemurians before Atlantis and Lemuria were destroyed in the great cataclysm.

The current Paroobans are descendants of the survivors. All are born with an extra thumb below their pinky fingers. Only the Elite among them are allowed to keep these digits. They’re amputated on the underlings in order for them to blend in without alarming anyone. The Elites remain in seclusion and are highly telepathic.

For eons, the Elite have been trying to contact their alien forbearers in the constellation Ophiuchus. NOW, they have finally succeeded and these pernicious aliens are being summoned back! The Parooban Elite celebrate with feasts of human flesh! They will be exalted and rule the earth! Others will exist only as slaves and a source of food.

Quickly all nations try banding together to stop this!!! -- Unfortunately, it’s unsuccessful, people go raving mad in the streets, mass chaos prevails and bloodshed ensues!  But many refuse to give up hope; various plans are set into action.

However, the true heroine is a 65 year old tourist! (A still hot-looking woman, who looks much like me! But I wouldn’t object to Bo Derek being cast in this role.) Through a combination of cunning, determination, and luck she manages to end the Parooban’s machinations and saves the earth.

OK Hollywood, that’s your basic premise! Now it’s up to you to flesh it out! -- But only after you pay me a ton of money!!!  You can find me on LinkedIn.

 

FOOTNOTE:  Fish massages are wonderful!  Be sure to experience one on your next Asian excursion!

HOTEL, MOTEL HELL-OOOOOO

One of my favorite summer replacement TV shows is Gordon Ramsay’s HOTEL HELL. I hope it will be returning this year. In it, the fiery-tempered chef cusses and insults incompetent and irresponsible hotel and resort owners. Their places have gone to seed and he gets them up to speed.

I always wonder how many of his changes actually stick! Most of these people would be better off selling and getting into something else. They should do updates!

This brings to mind a favorite horror flick of mine, MOTEL HELL. (This movie is an absolute hoot and a scream!!!) Starring an aged Rory Calhoun as Farmer Vincent, he and his younger sister own a motel with a farm in the back. Besides running the motel, Vincent butchers and smokes meat. He sells it to patrons & tourists, many of whom end up as the main ingredient. Plus he sets traps for unwary motorists.

Vincent’s smoked meat is legendary due to its unique flavor and deliciousness. His slogans are: “All kinds of critters go into Farmer Vincent’s fritters.” and “Meat is meat and people got to eat.”

This reminded me of an incident from my childhood when I was around 4 years old. My older friend Sharla & I were exploring the wilderness behind the house. All of a sudden she cried out in pain! There was a bloody slash on her arm from a sharp branch.

She pulled back the skin on her wound. “This is meat,” she told me. Well, it looked just like the bloody stuff my mother brought home from the butcher. It turned me off to meat forever, at least on mammals.

My father was stationed in Japan after WWII. He claimed that in the Northern part of the country during long, harsh winters families would kill and eat their youngest child to keep from starving. (He was dead serious, NOT kidding!) As the youngest member of my family this gave me chills!

Dad once told me that the reason people were more violent in the past was because they were forced to hunt to eat. “There is little difference between killing and cutting open a large animal than a human being.”-- I think there’s something to this!

Oh, but wouldn’t it be fun and interesting if Gordon Ramsay was sent to Farmer Vincent’s MOTEL HELL! -- There’s a movie that I would pay to watch!

EATING TO LIVE VS LIVING TO EAT

They say if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Forget that, I want Lemon Meringue Pie!!! As anyone who knows me will tell you, I have a voracious sweet tooth.

I am not being over dramatic when I say that if I don’t adhere to a strict healthy diet, I will die in the near future. That’s reality!

Using a form of numerology and family history I once figured out the date of my death, I don’t know how accurate it is. The date was 2034 when I’m 83 yrs old. I even got a specific day and time which I don’t care to post, here. However, I’m a believer that fate can be changed, with the exception of natural catastrophes of course. 

Diet is a dirty four letter word to me! I love to eat, but only food that’s actually tasty. Mealtimes were a celebrated event! I used to sing and dance around my kitchen as I prepared them. These days, it’s more like the gulag shuffle and groan.

With my great lust for carbs & sweets, it’s truly amazing that I didn’t drop dead of a heart attack at age 50!

I still set a lovely table for myself, but no matter how pretty, the food seems somehow unworthy. I loathe these awful yard clippings they call vegetables. I want to grate cheese over them to add some taste, but that’s on the forbidden list. Fruit is highly over-rated as a dessert!!! And what idiot declared fruit & cheese to be a dessert, it’s clearly an appetizer!  

I used to enjoy reading restaurant reviews in the newspaper, but no more. I just skip past them. They only depress me, now.

Meeting friends for lunch has presented a problem. We have to dine where I can actually eat the food without going into cardiac arrest on the drive home. Recently, we chose Ruby Tuesday’s because of the salad bar. Actually I’ve been to Ruby Tuesday’s many times, but I’d never seen the salad bar before. I’ve always avoided it like a vampire avoids sunlight!

Not long ago, I attended a networking luncheon. Instead of ordering what I really wanted, I opted for the tuna, fruit, & salad platter believing it to be a healthier choice. But it contained more cheese than fruit with buttery death crackers throughout. I didn’t eat the later! Dessert was double fudge cake!!! Since it was included in the price and I’d just paid $20 for a crappy salad, I ate it.

My feet began stinging as if those big red ants I’d killed in Mae Hong Son were haunting and having revenge. When I removed my shoes, my feet looked like Christmas lights! Now I was feeling electric shocks! I should have been more careful.

Now, whenever I stare at a pastry too long, I imagine the Grim Reaper hanging from a chain swinging over me, his scythe poised to strike. If I move closer to it, he swings lower. I want to holler, “Go away our date isn’t until 2034!”

My brother is diabetic and swears he can eat anything because he’s on medication. “I had a sweet roll just this morning,” he bragged over the phone. This made me angry and jealous! I want a sweet roll, too! It’s not fair! I feel as if I’m being punished and a prisoner. Except in prison you can have sweet rolls. I know this for fact! Friends have told me he is misinformed and his medication does not give him a license to indulge.

Insanity and cancer run in both sides of my family. I’ve managed to escape the insanity by the skin of my teeth. However, both my parents died from cancer. I’ve always wondered if I’d end up as one of those pathetic people writing a Boomer-With- A -Tumor blog. But there’s always a chance something else will take me down first. You just have to do the right things and hope.

After returning from my last trip, I began decluttering my house. (I’ve only scratched the surface.) I started with my closets. I sent all of my smaller sized clothes off to Goodwill. I told myself I was delusional if I thought I’d ever fit into them again. Well guess what! I’ve lost so much weight, now I could! If I drop dead tomorrow at age 65, I’m leaving a good-looking corpse behind!

BANGING ON DEATH'S DOOR

Banging? According to the Health Clinic and others I’ve been storming it with a battering ram, or at least I was. Perhaps I’m being over dramatic here. I hope I am!

People always do a double-take when they learn my age. At 65, I look closer to 45 and a young 45 at that! It’s hard for anyone to see me as a senior citizen. But suddenly I’ve got a lot of old foggie issues.

After returning from Indochina, I wondered if the overwhelming fatigue would end. And I felt the cold more intensely, now. Winter finally arrived after I returned to Florida. During the evenings, I was wrapping myself in a blanket as I sat in my recliner, which I never did before.

Everything below the knees finally shrank back to normal size and my regular shoes feel comfortable again. But new and more serious problems emerged. My feet & ankles started turning beet red as painful stinging, burning, & feelings of electric shock ensued. Previously, I had a touch of neuropathy, but the symptoms were far and few between, now it’s worse & daily! Plus I feel tightness over my ankles like rubber bands. Sometimes my calves would go numb.

Occasionally, I felt the fluttering of panic in my chest similar to an anxiety attack while relaxing. Sometimes there’s a burning pressure in my left arm. I’ve had this on & off for several years. I’ve always thought it was just arthritis.

I Googled my symptoms. According to one site, I was experiencing 3 of the 4 stages leading up to a heart attack. (They even displayed pictures of my feet & ankles!) Another agreed that I was suffering the symptoms of cardiovascular disease. Yet another stated these were the symptoms of Diabetic neuropathy. Gosh, I was a mess! Or were they just selling a product and trying to scare me.

I went to the Health Clinic to schedule an appointment, I told them my symptoms. They instructed me to go straight to the Emergency Room. I refused! I don’t have Insurance, if I was hospitalized it would ruin me financially! If that happened, my life would be over anyway. I’d rather just go home and die in the house I loved.

A few weeks later, I returned for my appointment. I must have seemed like dead woman walking. In the meantime, I’d changed to a Spartan died and scheduled tests with Life Line Screening for early June, which was the soonest available date.

I’d been warned that my triglycerides were too high and must make changes back in 2012. And I did try! But then came my 2 big trips and who wants to adhere to a diet on vacation? That’s why it’s called a VACATION!!! Besides, trying the local cuisine is part of the fun!

My one great sin in life is that I crave food that actually TASTES GOOD! I love jumbo egg omelets oozing with cheese, hash browns, buttery biscuits, pancakes with butter & syrup, pasta swimming in cream sauce, flavored potato chips with dip, & butter-cream topped pastries, not to mention 5 cheese pizza & lasagna. – Keep those foul tasting vegetables away from me! Friends have always been mystified as to why I’m not morbidly obese!

However those days of enjoying food with wild abandon are over. I’ve completely changed my diet. Everything delicious has been banished from my fridge and pantry. I DIDN’T SAY I WAS HAPPY! This diet feels like punishment.

Also I’m trying to reduce stress in my life, at least for the time being.

I’m surprised I didn’t have a heart attack at the airport in Dubai on my return flight! I was struggling to pull myself from the jaws of a full-blown anxiety attack. It was a major stressor! My trip took a toll on me, but I don’t regret it.

I felt relieved after my clinic appointment, but not completely.

The doctor said he wasn’t worried about me, because I’m a slim woman. (I had dropped 10 lbs since the last time I walked in there.) Plus I’m a non-smoker. -- My father was a trim man who didn’t smoke and he had 2 heart attacks and also suffered a stroke!

Dad was far more careful about his diet than I ever was! And he was active! After he retired, he constantly was working outside in the yard or on the house. (I’ve always said if God intended me to do manual labor he wouldn’t have given me such small hands.) Dad should have lived to be 110! Yet, he died at 85 the same age as his chain-smoking father, but he was sick for longer.

In my case, as for a stroke or my heart, I’ve planned for a sneak attack. I told my friend Rose that if she does not receive at least one email from me a day, to grab the key I gave her and come over to claim my body before the bugs do.

Everything I’m doing now may not be enough. But what gets me most, is that my last meal will be a > #)$ ^(*% < salad! I’d rather depart this planet with a pizza on my breath, butter-cream frosting on my lips and a big smile on my face.

I’ve considered just eating what I love and letting the inevitable happen, but that feels too much like giving up. I’m seeing improvement with this despised diet, but outside of magically losing pounds fast, no miracles. I’ll know more at the latter part of June when I return to the clinic for my test results from Life Line Screening.

I am not happy about this time line but I don’t have Insurance and it’s better than nothing.

If my tests turn up unfavorable and my days ahead are short, there will be no boo hooing here. Not from me and not about this.

BACK FROM SIAM, I AM

Actually, I’ve been back from Thailand for 3 months, now. My trip was amazing! I saw astounding sights and experienced an abundance of wondrous and marvelous things! Plus all of my guides made me feel as if they took special care of me. This was an ISRAMWORLD ORIENT tour and I highly recommend it!

I loved visiting Thailand and enjoyed lots of fun, plus I made memories to treasure! The architecture was spectacular and the shopping eye-popping!  I survived 7 flights during that trip. But it was worth every bit of the airline misery. And if the opportunity presented itself, I’d go back in a heartbeat! -- But I don’t want to move there.

Living someplace is far different than visiting as a tourist. But one must visit to learn. This is why exploratory trips are necessary.

I was hoping to fall in love with Thailand because I wasn’t feeling it in Ecuador. I compare it to finding a mate online. Someone may appear attractive and sound appealing, but then on a date you discover they have dirty fingernails, annoying habits, and smell bad. It doesn’t matter if they’re witty and show you a good time, because of these flaws you don’t want them permanently in your life.

I loved visiting the Soviet Union back in the Iron Curtain days, but there was no way I’d ever want to be a resident there.

Expats have told me, “Don’t bring the United States with you when you move, or else you’ll be unhappy.” Well, I’m quite fond of the U.S.  As an expatriate, I will feel like an exile.

For years, I’ve felt nudges from the universe telling me to leave; now they feel like shoves. My choice probably will be Ecuador. I just hope it won’t be too late!  I’ve been dragging my feet because it feels too much like a shotgun marriage. My heart will always belong to Vero Beach. I’ve enjoyed a wonderful life, here.

However, I can’t afford to stay much longer. Comfort and familiarity are becoming an expensive luxury. I remember actually thinking, “This would be the perfect point in time to die.” It would solve all of my problems. – As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for! To my horror, I realized this was a distinct possibility if I didn’t make changes quickly. My body was sending me warnings!

My last birthday was a significant one, 65 is a sobering age. In 15 years, I’ll be 80!  Just 15 years ago my father died. In my mind, it only seems like 5.

New developments have arisen putting a huge crimp in my timeline. All my plans for expatriating have been placed on hold, despite the fact that I need affordable Third World healthcare more than ever, now. I did not expect my health to take a downward dip this soon. No one is ever ready to be old.